


Yellow

by Windshadow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windshadow/pseuds/Windshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't really special, falling in love with him. We were always together after all.</p><p>Snippets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_It wasn't really special, falling in love with him. We were always together after all._

 

"Do you want one?" Akaashi turns his head towards the sound of the voice.

3rd year Sarukui tilts his chin towards the box of pickled fruit in the captain's hands; right hand holding a bright yellow slice of lemon.

Bokuto looks up from where he was seated, sweat trickling down his neck. His lips sucked on the tip of his forefinger, a flick of pink, the last drop of sweet honey.

Akaashi swallows, "No, I'm good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while since i wrote, i'll try my best.


	2. Ocher

  
Akaashi wonders when it started. Perhaps it was when he first joined the club over a year back and the loud upperclassman latched onto him for extra practice, the extra hours after club.

That one evening when he looked into the locker room after club activities, he saw Bokuto seated quietly on the bench, a lone towel draped over his head. Earlier on, in a practice match against another school from the district, Bokuto's cross spikes were repeatedly knocked down. 

Bokuto thrives in challenges, faith in his skills and strength. That day was when he had truly felt that he is facing an insurmountable wall. The crushing realization as he walked off the court, steps heavy from fatigue or spirit, perhaps both.

His body tensed, his shoulders hunched over, a dark shadow on the ground. The team slowly dribbled out of the room, heading back home for the day. The second-year sat, breathing deep and low, feeling his veins throb and his knuckles white from their clench in each other.

"Bokuto-san."

The first-year stood at the entrance, waiting. For what exactly, he too does not know.  
  
It was barely there, the tremble in his voice, the slight crack, "I'm too tired to practice today, maybe tomorrow?"

He looked ahead, eyes fixed on the window, the dull reflection of ocher from the tungsten bulb.

"Alright, good night." Akaashi ignored the wet splotches on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had too much time when I started this. Then. I ended up taking on too many projects. Somehow. And now I don't have much left.


End file.
